Charlotte Lamb - A Wild Affair

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A Wild Affair

By

Charlotte Lamb

First published in Great Britain

1982 by Mills & Boon Limited

Charlotte Lamb 1982

Australian copyright 1982

Philippine copyright 1982

Reprinted 1982

This edition 1987

ISBN 0 263 75717 X

CHAPTER ONE

Quincy was just about to start making supper; her mind divided between macaroni cheese

and Brendan's blow-by-blow account of how he had delivered a calf a few hours earlier. A

tall, thin young man with dusty blond hair, he had only been practising as a vet for fiveyears and was still at the stage of thinking his job the most enthralling subject in the world,

and Quincy, being the daughter of Brendan's partner and therefore accustomed to talk of the

medical problems of the animal world, seemed to him the perfect audience. She was notmerely a pretty girl, but one likely to listen and applaud Brendan's great triumph. It had
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been a difficult birth, touch and go for a while, but Brendan Leary had won against all the

odds and he wanted someone to appreciate it. The farmer had clapped him on the shoulderand given him a stiff whisky afterwards, he might even pay his bill eventually, but Brendan

needed more than that.

Quincy listened, smiling, and although she wasn't saying anything she was looking everybit as impressed as Brendan could hopeshe had been listening to such stories all her life,

she was fond of Brendan and she was always happy to hear of his triumphs in the face of

the thousand and one disasters which could befall his patients.

Her parents were having dinner out that evening, to celebrate Mrs Jones's birthday. Quincy

could hear her mother singing in the bath while Mr Jones shaved, his electric razor buzzingin counterpoint to his wife's faintly unsteady contralto. From Bobby's bedroom came the

transatlantic babble of his radioQuincy's brother claimed to be unable to do his

homework unless his ears were safely plugged with pop music, a theory his father disputedbut had given up trying to argue over with Bobby.

It was a warm spring evening and Quincy had no sense of foreboding, no warning

premonition, as she unearthed the cheese grater and filled a saucepan with water in which toboil the macaroni.

When the doorbell went Brendan stopped talking and groaned: 'I knew I'd be called outagain! Why is there always an emergency when I'm on call?'

Quincy laughed, shedding her apron. 'Don't be so pessimistic, it's probably Penny, she saidshe might drive over for a chat.' As she left the kitchen Brendan stared after her gloomily,

convinced of the worst. He had used up most of his energy during the day and had been

looking forward to a quiet evening with Quincy. She had invited him to supper, as he wason call, and the last thing he wanted to do was spend hours in a draughty cowshed insteadof talking to Quincy. She was so easy to talk toslim, green-eyed, smiling, with short

chestnut hair which sprang in soft curls around her face, she had a feminine warmth

Brendan found very appealing.

Quincy walked down the hall and opened the front door, then froze in disbelief as she

stared at the man outside. She was so amazed as she recognised him that she didn't noticethe people jostling behind his wide shoulders. She just stared at that unmistakable face,

open-mouthed.

'Hallo, Quincy,' he said in a deep, warm voice, smiling, and then all hell was let loosearound her: flashbulbs exploded in her face, men jostled around them, voices yelled

questions she hardly heard, the constant explosions of light dazzled and blinded her.

'How does it feel to have a dream come true, Quincy?'

'Look this way, sweetie, smile'


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'Did you ever think you'd win, Quincy?'

Quincy's mind was blown to smithereensthis wasn't happening, she was having some

sort of brainstorm, it couldn't be real. Who were all these people, and what on earth were

they talking about? She blinked as one of them darted at her, aiming his camera so close she

saw stars for a few seconds. When she opened her eyes again she hoped they would all havegone, vanished back into the warm spring night from which they had sprung, but when she

opened her eyes they were all still there, snapping around her like hungry barracuda,

bawling questions, she didn't understand and could not answer, grabbing her arm on firstthis side and then that, whirling her like a dervish.

It seemed at the time to last for an eternity, but later she realised it had happened with suchspeed that it could only have been a couple of minutes from the second when she opened

that door, blithely unaware of what was about to hit her, until the instant when Joe Aldonez

took a step forward, and, as she quickly looked at him in unnerved query, smiled

reassuringly at her.

'Don't look so alarmed,' he murmured.

'Can we have a kiss, Mr Aldonez?' one of the photographers yelled, and the others took up

the cry. 'Hey, Joe, kiss her, would you?'

The next minute Quincy felt the world swing wildly as she was caught into Joe Aldonez's

arms. Her short chestnut curls spilled over his sleeve as he tilted her, face upward. Afraid

she was going to fall, she grabbed at his shoulders and then his hard, warm mouth engulfedher lips. Quincy had her eyes open for the first few seconds, until the constant explosion of

flashlights forced her to close them.

I'm going out of my mind, she thought. I'm having delusions, this is a hallucinationitcan't be happening.

If it was a hallucination, it was strangely potent. Her lips trembled under the sensual

movements of his mouth, her body quivering as a gentle hand pressed along her spine, but

Quincy had a solid core of common sense. She kept her eyes shut and told herself firmly

that it wasn't real. What was happening was happening inside her own head, she wasdreaming on her feet, and in a minute she would open her eyes, looking very silly, to find

herself staring at the irate and puzzled owner of a sick cow.

'What on earth ?'

Good question, Quincy thought, still clinging helplessly to the man holding her and halfbelieving she was imagining that voice, too, until it bellowed like an angry bull.

'What's going on, for heaven's sake?'

The next minute she was free, glassy-eyed and very flushed, shaking like a leaf while she


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stared at her father in his old woolly check dressing-gown, standing at the top of the stairs

and gaping down at her and the all-too-real circus which was continuing to perform noisilyaround her.

The photographers took pictures of him, too, and Quincy saw her mother scuttling behind

Mr Jones, clutching at the lapels of her blue quilted dressing-gown, as she stared, wide-eyed, at the invasion of her home.

'Well, isn't anyone going to answer me?' Robert Jones demanded.

Everyone tried to answer him at once, the confused gabble merely making him scowl, then

Joe Aldonez moved, so fast that Quincy for one wasn't aware what he was doing until it wasdone, his strategy carried through so smoothly that it met no opposition.

'Thank you, gentlemen, we'll wrap it up for the evening. I'm sure you've got enoughpictures now, and Carmen will keep you informed,' he said briskly, driving the press before

him like sheep. No doubt they would have resisted had he not appeared to be going withthem, his long stride pushing them all backwards, mesmerised by his confidence. The

minute they were all outside, the door closed. Angry shouts of 'Hey!' and the thud of fistson the door made it clear that the press were annoyed, but that did not seem to worry Joe

Aldonez.

'They'll go in a minute or two,' he told Mr Jones coolly. 'They've got what they came for.'

What was that? Quincy wondered, still trying to convince herself that she was not the

victim of an hallucination.

Joe Aldonez was not the only person left behind by the tide of press menwith him was a

man in a pale blue suit who had said nothing but who kept on smiling, and a blonde girl in afur-lined sheepskin coat which she wore with an air of elegance Quincy couldn't quite

define. Nothing the girl was wearing seemed particularly strikingit was just the way she

wore it which left that impression of chic.

'Sorry about the rumpus,' the blonde girl was saying to Mr Jones with a friendly smile

which didn't quite ring trueit had a certain careful deliberation which Quincy didn't like.

'I'm afraid it got out of hand there for a minute or two. We should have rung to warn you wewere coming, but we wanted to give Quincy a real surprise.'

They had certainly done that. Quincy was beginning to recover from the traumatic shock

which the lightning-speed sequence of events had kept her locked in ever since she openedthat door, and now she was getting annoyed.

'What' she began, and the blonde girl turned towards her, holding out her hand.'Congratulations, Quincy,' she said, the trace of amused patronage in her face and voice

making the hair on the back of Quincy's neck prickle angrily.

'What are you talking about? And who are you?' Quincy hadn't looked at Joe Aldonez since


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the door shut, but she was constantly aware of him, although she couldn't yet allow herself

to believe he was really there in person. Had he actually erupted into her life, or was shehaving some sort of Alice-in-Wonderland dream? Would she wake up in a minute and

realise none of this had happened?

'You've won,' the blonde girl said.

'What are you talking about?' Quincy asked.

That was the question which was bothering her father, too. He came down the stairs now,

bristling like a porcupine, his damp hair standing up in spikes, and asked it very insistently:

'What's this all about?'

Smiling, the blonde girl offered him her hand and he slowly accepted it without thinking,

staring at her.

'Who are you?'

'I'm Carmen Lister, the editor ofVibes . You must be Quincy's fatherhallo, Mr Jones.'

'What on earth isVibes ?' Mr Jones asked in a harassed voice, rumpling his hair with one

hand, and the blonde girl laughed.

'A music magazine.'

'Are you a friend of my daughter?' Mr Jones asked in bemused uncertainty. 'What were all

those photographers doing here? Why were they taking pictures of my daughter?' His eyes

moved round to Joe Aldonez, his frown came back. 'And who's that man who was kissingher?'

A genuine expression flitted over Carmen Lister's carefully smiling faceQuincy pinned itdown as a mixture of incredulity and shock.

'That's Joe Aldonez, Mr Jones,' Carmen told him, throwing a look of apology in the

direction of the other man.

'Who?' Mr Jones said and Carmen almost winced.

'Joe's a bigstar,'she said.

Mrs Jones had found her way downstairs by now and was staring open-mouthed at JoeAldonez, her expression making it clear that she, at least, knew who he wasbut then so

did most women. His records had been hitting the top ten regularly ever since his first disc

came out; his deep, husky voice sending shivers down the back of any woman listening ashe smokily whispered out love songs which had a smouldering sexiness.


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'Vibeshas been running a competition,' Carmen explained. 'You had to answer six questions

about Joe's songs and decide which pair of eyes belonged to him we had a dozen pairs tochoose from, it's surprising how difficult that is, I had a job deciding which was the right

pair myself.' She smiled and Mr Jones gazed blankly at her. 'The first prize was a date with

Joe,' Carmen told him. 'And your daughter won.'

'I can't have!' Quincy broke out involuntarily.

Carmen turned and gave her a smile as genuine as the disbelief with which she had realised

that Mr Jones hadn't recognised Joe Aldonez.

'You have, I promise you,' she said. 'You must be thrilled.'

'I can't have won,' Quincy insisted,' and Carmen laughed.

'I assure you, you have.' She had rather sharp blue eyes, their lids heavily painted withsilvery blue eyeshadow, and her lashes were visibly false; clustering in dramatic sweepswhich flicked up and down every time she opened and closed her eyes. They gave her the

appearance of a doll, her blonde hair neatly curled around her face, but the faint hardness of

her expression when she wasn't smiling so carefully contradicted that pretty, doll-like look.

'Quincy entered this competition and won?' Mr Jones demanded, staring at his daughter as

though he had never seen her before, disgust in his face. Mr Jones did not like pop music

his own taste inclined towards brass bands playing martial tunesand he was appalled bythe thought of Quincy entering a competition with a date with a pop star as the first prize.

A man of fifty, Robert Jones was wiry and active; his skin freshly coloured from years ofworking in the open air in all weathers, his eyes brown, his hair almost the same colour

although it was slowly gathering streaks of grey which he resented and tried to brush out of

sight. He was a man of common sense and quiet humour; his veterinary practice was verybusy, but his love of animals helped him to accept the heavy work load his job enforced. He

was popular with both his patients and their owners, because his temper was even, his

patience almost inexhaustible and his manner cheerful. His one vice was his pipe, which he

smoked in secret with an air of guilty satisfaction and constantly resolved to give up.

'Quincy's a very lucky girl,' Carmen told him. 'We had thousands of entrieseven I was

surprised by the flood of mail we got, we had to take on extra staff to cope with it all.'

'Good heavens,' Mr Jones muttered, still staring at Quincy. 'Quincy, I can't understand why

you did such a thing!'

'But I didn't,' she protested, her voice almost shrill in her determination to be heard.

Joe Aldonez moved and her eyes flew round to meet his stare. 'You didn't what?' he asked

slowly. His speaking voice had the same husky, smoky quality which had made his singing


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so immediately recognisable, and it sent exactly the same shiver down her spine. His

American accent was soft and drawling, far more noticeable than when he sang.

'Enter,' she explained, studying his face and struck by the odd contradictions in itthe

harsh power of the bone structure giving an angularity to cheek and jaw, to the deep

forehead and long arrogant nose, which was offset by a startling beauty in the deep, darkwells of his eyes. The same clash was revealed in his mouth; the upper lip firm and cool,

the lower warm and distinctly sensual, curving in a half-smile as she stared at him, which

made her flush.

His brows winged upwards in a sardonic movement. 'You didn't enter the competition?'

'I didn't,' she insisted.

Carmen's brows met. 'What do you mean? I have your entry form here with me!' Sheunzipped her shoulder bag and produced a crumpled page, torn from the magazine judging

by the look of it, and waved it at Quincy. 'See? You are Quincy Jones, aren't you?'

'Yes,' Quincy admitted. 'But'

'And this is your address?' Carmen's voice had an irritated ring.

Quincy took the form from her, and looked at it. Her own name leapt up at her, printed in

capital letters, below it her address printed in the same hand. 'I don't understand it,' she said,

her face puzzled.

'We haven't got time for games,' Carmen dismissed with a shrug. 'I'm sure your parents

won't object, if that's what's worrying you, there's no need to pretend you didn't enter.'

'I'm not pretending anything,' said Quincy, then her eye fell on the handwriting lower down

on the form and she gave a choked cry of recognition. As she looked up she saw her brother

lurking on the top of the stairs, and yelled: 'Bobby!'

He at once began to vanish, but her father had been looking over her shoulder at the formand he, too, had recognised the handwriting.

'Bobby, you come down here!' he shouted, and Bobby stopped in his tracks. Wearing a

silly smile he came down, a step at a time, while everyone stared at him. His face had gone

brick-red, a colour which shrieked at his mop of untidy ginger hair and the gaudy yellow T-shirt he was wearing. As he got to the hall, his father's heavy hand descended on his

shoulder and Bobby looked up at him, his expression placatory.

'Did you fill in that entry form?' Robert Jones demanded.

Bobby didn't utter a syllable, he just nodded. Even the tips of his large ears were crimsonalthough Bobby's hair was pretty unusual, it was his ears which most people remembered


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and which were responsible for his school nickname, Jugs, or, when his friends weren't in a

hurry, Jughandle. Bobby was fifteen and lived in a state of happy squalor, his roomcluttered with the assorted debris of a very busy life: model planes standing on every

surface or suspended from the ceiling, clothes left wherever he happened to drop them,

books and magazines in untidy piles all over the room. Mrs Jones had a blitz on the room

once a week, but no sooner had Bobby been allowed back into it again than he set aboutrestoring it to its usual condition. 'Anyone would think that boy had been born in a dustbin!'

Mr Jones often complained.

'Why did you put your sister's name down?' Joe Aldonez asked, and Bobby shot him a

wary look. 'Why not your own?' Joe asked.

'Well, it was for girls, wasn't it?' Bobby mumbled.

'Then why did you enter?' Carmen asked furiously, and Mr Jones nodded in agreement.

'Yes, why did you enter?' he chimed.

Bobby became speechless again, shuffling his feet. Joe Aldonez was watching him

thoughtfully, one long index finger scratching the side of his jaw as he considered thesubject. 'I get it,' he said suddenly. 'You wanted to win one of the transistors, right?'

'Right,' said Bobby, brightening up.

'What?' Mr Jones demanded.

'There were transistor radios as runner-up prizes,' Joe explained. 'Fifty of them, good ones,

too.'

'Bobby Jones, I could kill you!' Quincy snapped, erupting into fury.

'That wouldn't solve anything,' Joe Aldonez told her with amusement.

'It would make me feel a lot happier,' retorted Quincy, keeping her eyes on her brother as

he edged away.

Carmen Lister had gone red, too, but not with embarrassment, with sheer, blinding rage;

her blue eyes glittering like the Northern Lights, very bright and cold. 'You mean, we've

driven all this way from London, set up all that publicity, released the story and gone to all

this trouble, and now we've got to start all over again with some other girl?' She wasn't somuch talking to any of them as to herself, her voice raw with fury, and Quincy could

imagine that she was not exactly an easy lady to work with, especially if you had made alittle mistake.

Everyone looked at her. Mr Jones tightened his grip on his son's shoulder. Mrs Joneslooked worried and Quincy took a step backward as if afraid Carmen Lister might turn

dangerous at any minte, only to tread on Brendan's toe and glance round in startled surprise


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at his stifled yelp. 'Sorry,' she whispered, rather relieved to find him there.

'What are we going to do?' Carmen was saying, looking at the man in the perfectly tailoredblue suit who had not spoken a word yet but had been listening attentively and watching

them all. He had a face which was far from easy to read; it had a smooth, plastic look, the

smile it wore as prefabricated as the one Carmen usually wore, switching on and off like afaulty light bulb. His eyes were knife-sharp; his pale hair, closely shaven face and well-

groomed clothes seemed to help him merge into whatever background he was placed

against, but gave away nothing about his real personalityas if, whatever he was, hepreferred not to be seen being it in public. He looked, thought Quincy, like a perfectly

cloned politician.

'I'm sure we can sort out this little hitch,' he said. His voice was American, Quincy noted.

Smiling, he held out his hand to Robert Jones. 'I'm Billy Griffith, Joe's manager, Mr Jones.'

'How do you do?' Mr Jones said stiffly, shaking hands.

'Glad to know you,' said Billy Griffith. 'Now, why don't we have a little chat about this,

man to man?' He took hold of Robert Jones's elbow and steered him through the open doorof the sitting-room before Mr Jones had had time to work out what was happening. Mrs

Jones and Carmen Lister followed, but as Quincy moved she found herself facing a closed

door. Flushing, she was about to push it open again when Joe Aldonez stepped into her pathand smiled down at her.

'You know, I think we could all do with some coffee.'

'I want to know what they're saying in there,' Quincy said crossly. She was certain Carmen

Lister had deliberately shut the door on her. A conspiracy was being hatched behind thatdoor and Quincy wanted no part of it.

The phone began to shrill and Brendan said: 'I'll take that in the surgery.' He walked

towards the interconnecting door which led from the house into the one-storey buildingwhich had been built on to the side of the house to act as a surgery, and switched the call

through as he passed the phone. Bobby was staring at Joe Aldonez, whose dark eyes had

followed Brendan briefly.

'You look just like your pictures,' he accused.

'Is that a compliment or a complaint?' Joe enquired, turning his black head to look down athim, his mouth curving into an amused smile. He must be well over six foot, Quincy

realised, measuring him against her five-foot-five brother. Against that night-black hair, his

skin was smooth and bronzed, betraying the fact that he came from a much warmer climatethan the West of England.

'I suppose I don't get a transistor now?' Bobby asked gloomily.


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'In your place I'd let the subject drop,' Joe drawled with dry amusement.

'I did win!' Bobby protested, then caught a derisive glance and shrugged. 'Oh, wellhey,

Joe, could I have your autograph? I've got one of your albums upstairs. Could you sign it

for me?'

Joe considered him, gleaming mockery in his stare. 'And then you'll auction it among the

girls in your class, I guess?'

'Who, me?' Bobby said hurriedly, a butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth smile assumed as he

gazed back.

'Of course, that would never enter your head, would it?' Joe teased, and Bobby grinned. 'I

get the impression you're a guy worth watching,' Joe added, and Bobby looked distinctly

flattered. He hurried to do some flattering in his turn.

'You're dead popular with the girls, they swoon when they hear you sing.' He rolled hiseyes up and put on a dying expression. 'And they scream,' he added, letting out an eldritchshriek which made Quincy jump. 'Like that,' Bobby explained to Joe. 'They're idiots.'

'How could I refuse such flattery?' Joe shrugged.

Bobby beamed. 'Will you autograph my album?'

'Sure, why not?'

'Thanks,' said Bobby, and took the stairs three at a time, his feet thudding so hard the hall

rocked with the sound.

It wasn't until he had gone that Quincy realised she was alone with Joe Aldonez. She began

quietly edging towards the sitting-room door again and Joe asked: 'Where are you going?' in

a voice which made her halt mid-step and look at him in alarm. He was using that voicewhich made her hair stand up on the back of her neck; the deep, soft, husky voice which he

used when he was singing. He hadn't used it when he talked to Bobby, then he had sounded

more brisk.

'I want to know what's going on in there,' she said.

'You'll find out in due course,' he informed her, taking hold of her arm. 'Why don't we

make that coffee?'

'Why don't you let go of me?' Quincy retorted, but the cool fingers clamped on her arm

gave her no opportunity to evade the steering grip which was leading her towards the

kitchen, and she decided it would be undignified to struggle. She already felt she had beenmade to look ridiculous by this man. Her temper was ready to take off like a rocket to the


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moon, and Quincy had learnt to be careful about letting her temper slip the leash. She hadn't

inherited the red hair which her father's mother had passed on to both Bobby and their eldersister, Lilli, but Quincy had been handed her grandmother's redhot temper. She usually kept

it under controllittle in her life had ever given her cause to get really angry. The last time

she had lost her temper was when she saw some boys throwing stones at a stray dog, and on

that occasion she had thrown one of them into the village duckpond. When Quincy did loseher temper she was apt to go too far, as her mother had remarked.

Joe let go of her in the kitchen and she quietly set about making a pot of coffee, ignoringhim as he helped by tracking down the cups and getting out the sugar bowl.

'Is Quincy your real name?' he asked, and she nodded.

'What do you do, Quincy? What's your job?'

'I work for my father, I'm his receptionist and I do the typing.'

'Your father's a vet, isn't he?'

She nodded and Joe said: 'When I was a kid I used to dream about being a vetI was crazy

about horses, I'd have given anything to work with them all day. I've got a whole stableful

of them now, but I never seem to get time to ride.'

'I used to ride all the time when I was at school,' said Quincy, and a smile came into his

dark eyes.

'But not any more? What do you do in your spare time these days, Quincy?' The intimate

note in his voice made her stiffen. He was flirting with her and that charm was probably assynthetic as Carmen Lister's smile. He needn't think he could turn it in her direction just

because he had nothing more interesting in view. Quincy was under no illusion about her

own looksher face was unlikely to stop any man in his tracks, she was slightly too thinand her short chestnut hair only took on a vivid colour in strong sunlight, when it acquired a

golden glint. When she smiled, somehow people always seemed to smile back, though, and

she had long ago learnt to live with her own ordinary appearance. Since she only saw

herself in mirrors she was unaware of the fact that when she was looking at someone else,her face was vitally alive, heart-shaped, smooth-skinned, her green eyes full of warmth, her

pink mouth a tender, gentle curve even in repose.

Ignoring his question, she said: 'I'm sorry Bobby put my name on that competition entry,Mr Aldonez. I realise it must have caused a lot of trouble for you and your publicity people

and I apologise, but I couldn't possibly go through with it. I would never have dreamed of

entering. I'm not one of your fans, I'm afraid. I wouldn't want to deprive one of them of herdream-come-true.'

'Why are you so cross?' he asked.


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'I'm not cross!' she denied.

'Your green eyes have got mad lights in them,' he remarked, staring down into them.

'Oh, I'm crazy now, am I?' she said indignantly, and he laughed.

'Not that sort of crazymad as in angry, and getting angrier by the minute.'

'Are you surprised? If anyone around here is crazy it's you and your friends!'

His mouth twisted drily. 'The competition? Hell, that wasn't my ideaCarmen and Billy

hatched that between them as publicity for my tour of England. I didn't even know about ituntil I arrived two days agothey sprang it on me and it was too late for me to call a halt. I

can't attend to every little detail myself, that's Billy's province. He'd sell his own

grandmother to get some free publicity.'

'I can believe that,' said Quincy, thinking of the pale, unreadable face of Billy Griffith. Shewouldn't trust him further than she could see himand even then she would watch him like

a hawk.

'So you're not one of my fans?' he asked, looking amused as she flushed and glanced away.

'I don't get much time to listen to records,' Quincy evaded, thinking guiltily of the album

she had hidden upstairs in her bedroom. She had been playing it endlessly for days, but he

wasn't to know that, and she certainly did not intend to pander to his vanity by telling himas much.

'And when you do, I suppose you only listen to classical music?' he enquired, and she sawfrom the quick look she gave him that he was mocking her again, little teasing glints of gold

showing around the fathomless black pupils of those eyes. 'Solid stuff, of course,' he said,

pretending to think seriously about it. 'Beethoven or Mozart?'

'Don't put words into my mouth!' she flared, very pink. 'I didn't say anything of the kind. I

listen to all sorts of music so long as it's easy on the ear.'

'But I'm not,' he supplied, and she eyed him with wrathful reluctance.

'You know very well you are!' He knew, of course, how could he fail to know? He was oneof the top recording stars of America and was beginning to be the most popular male singer

over here in England, too, although this was his first big tour of Europe. 'You're' she

broke off, biting her lip at his wry smile.

'Go on, Miss Jones,' he mocked. 'I can't wait to hear your verdict.'

'You're not interested in what I thinkwhy should you be?' She was finding his intimate,


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teasing amusement distinctly nerve-racking, and decided to change the subject. 'I suppose

you have to rehearse before your tour starts?'

He did not fail to notice the deliberate introduction of a red herring, but although his eyes

gleamed with laughter he answered. 'We kick off in Liverpool in three days' time and go on

to some gigs in a couple of other big cities before we go back to London to finish with thebig concert.'

'That's sold out, isn't it?' asked Quincy, having read as much in the newspapers. Hisconcerts had been a sell-out within days of the tickets being put on the market and there was

a big black market in tickets, she had heard, with people paying fantastic, inflated prices to

get hold of one.

Bobby came charging into the room, an album under his arm, and held it out to Joe

Aldonez. 'Could you write something across the cover, Joe, not just sign your name?'

Quincy looked at the album furiouslyshe forgot that she had just told Joe that she didn'tlike his singing and, her temper soaring, snapped: 'Bobby, you've been in my room again,

how many times have I told you to leave my things alone?' Only as she realised what shehad said did she stop, her mouth open in a gasp of dismay, meeting the amused gaze of dark

eyes and flushing hotly.

'It's yours, is it?' Joe asked softly, watching the colour running up her face with unhidden

enjoyment.

'Yeah, it's hers,' Bobby admitted. 'She nearly drove us nuts since she bought it, playing it

over and over again.'

It was his most recent album; the record sleeve carrying only a single dark red rose lyingagainst a background of soft black velvetthe image conveying exactly the sexy sound of

his voice.

Quincy would have liked to sink down through the floor and never be seen again. She

looked at her brother vengefully, and Bobby backed, keeping a wary eye on her. 'But you

will autograph it, won't you, Joe?'

'I'd be delighted,' Joe drawled. While they watched he wrote something across the top of

the cover, signed his name with a flourish born, Quincy imagined, from autographing a

thousand souvenirs, and handed the record back to Bobby, who grinned ear to ear,muttered: 'Thanks, Joe,' and bolted before Quincy could demand her record back. She was

dying to know what Joe had written. As soon as he had gone she would pursue Bobby to his

lair and retrieve her record before he could auction it or swap it for something heconsidered more desirable.

The coffee began to make violent noises of impending explosion. She switched it off and

Joe took the tray for her through to the sitting-room. She followed, wishing they would all


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leave. They were visitors from an alien civilisation, as out of place in her quiet little world

as she knew she would be in the world they obviously inhabited. Joe might only be wearingblack jeans and a white shirt, covered by a black leather jacket fitting tightly at the waist,

but she could guess that his clothes were not off the peg: they were designer-made, their cut

and fit elegant and sleek. His shirt was silk and clung to that lean, muscled body like a

second skin and he breathed an air of sophisticated assurance, wearing the clothes with acasual panache which didn't care what he wore, so certain of himself that she felt he would

have looked just as good in shabby, well-washed jeans and an old sweater. Carmen Lister

had the same cool, chic certainty about herself.

It wasn't what they woreit was how they wore it that counted.

Billy Griffith got up as she entered the room and smiled at her. Joe glanced at him, his

winged brows lifting in question. 'How are things coming?'

'I've explained how difficult it would be for us to change all the publicity now,' Billy

Griffiths said smoothly. 'Mr and Mrs Jones understand the position.' Quincy stared at himand did not much like what she saw. He looked calm and serene, but under his smile he was

tempered steel, she sensed, tough and unbreakable, yet ready to bend if he decided it wasnecessary. Not someone to cross if you could help it, this man, Quincy thought, his charm

was strictly skin-deep and his determination to have his own way absolute. As she sat down

he sank back into his own chair and leaned towards her.

'Quincy, we're going to have to throw ourselves on your mercy,' he said, smiling. 'Okay, we

jumped the gun, and maybe we shouldn't have announced your name to the press beforewe'd spoken to you, but how were we to guess there'd been this sort of mix-up? We had the

draw this afternoon in London, Joe himself picked you out and the press were there at the

time. It seemed a great idea to drive down here and have them around when you heard thenews. We took your entry at face value.' He smiled again. 'And a very pretty face it is, too

you don't mind my saying that, Quincy? As soon as we saw the photo, we all said: this is

our girl!'

'Photo?' Quincy asked, frowning.

Joe put a hand into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a small, crumpledsnapshot. She looked at it, appalled.

'Oh, no, Bobby didn't send you that!' It was a very old photograph of herself in jeans and a

cotton T-shirt, the dogs cavorting around her, her chestnut hair blown around her heart-shaped face in wild disorder, her eyes wide and bright as she laughed into the camera. 'That

was taken years ago, I'd only just left school!'

'You haven't changed,' Joe assured her, and she looked at him with dislike.

'Thank you!'


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'You were just what we were looking for,' Billy Griffiths told her. 'A typical fan, someone

to represent all of Joe's millions of fans around the world. You're going to live out the

dreams of a million women, Quincy.'

Quincy opened and shut her mouth in an attempt to speak, but she was so angry her voice

had gone on strike, she couldn't get a word out, and while she was still in her dumbstruckstate, Billy Griffiths said: 'Sit down next to Quincy, Joe, I'm sure she's dying to know what

we've got in store for her.'

You bet I am, Quincy thought, wondering if she should escape now and lock herself in her

bedroom, or wait until these steamrollers in human form had departed before announcing

that she was not going through with whatever horrific plans they had up their sleeves.

Mrs Jones poured the coffee and handed round the cups. Joe sat down and glanced

sideways at Quincy, his long lashes sweeping against his tanned skin. 'The general idea isfor you to come up to London, have your hair done and buy an evening dress'

'From one of the best new designers,' interrupted Carmen. 'Of course, it will be off the peg.

We won't have time to have a dress made for you, but it will be one of a limited range ofboutique designs.'

'And you'll go to an exclusive Mayfair beauty salon,' Billy Griffith added.

'You'll be staying with me,' Carmen told her. 'I've got a spare bedroom in my flat. Your

parents needn't be anxious about you, you'll be well protected.'

'I don't need a baby-sitter,' Quincy flared. 'How old do you think I am?' If they had been

judging by that old photo, they had presumably decided she was in her teens, but surely itmust have dawned on them by now that she was older than that?

'Twenty?' Billy Griffith suggested, and she suspected he would have liked her to agree, but

she looked him straight in the eye and said firmly that she was twenty-two. He gave a littleshrug and murmured something that sounded remarkably like: 'Pity,' but since it was a

comment made mostly to himself she couldn't be certain. She could be certain that they

would have liked her to be a dewy-eyed schoolgirl, especially when Billy Griffith turned toMrs Jones and said: 'But she looks pretty young.'

Everyone considered her and Quincy sat there, bristling, which brought a lazy smile

curling around Joe's lips.

'You see, Mrs Jones,' Billy went on, ignoring Quincy, having obviously decided that shewasn't sympathetic enough, 'we wanted to find an ordinary girl; someone Joe's fans could

identify with, a girl with a happy family background like yours. If we searched for years we

couldn't find anyone who looked as perfect as Quincy.'

'Well, you're going to have to,' Quincy told him. 'I'm not going to do it.' Her green eyes


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as present company were concerned.

Billy Griffith got up suddenly. 'We must be going,' he said, and smiled at Mr and MrsJones. 'It's been very pleasant meeting with you, I hope we'll see each other again.'

They looked surprised as they hurriedly got to their feet, and Carmen Lister stared indisbelief at the manager. He conferred one of his smooth plastic smiles on her. 'Coming,

Carmen?'

She clearly had not intended to, Carmen Lister had not yet got her own way with Quincy

and she was not the sort of girl who accepted defeat, but Billy Griffith bent and lifted her to

her feet, a hand under her elbow. 'You've got a fine show of spring flowers, Mr Jones,' hesaid, as he steered Carmen towards the door. 'I'd surely like to take a closer look at them

are you a serious gardener?'

'When I've got the time,' said Robert Jones, following. 'Would you like to walk round the

garden? You won't see much at this time of the evening.'

'The scent of the daffodils is beautiful at night, though,' Mrs Jones told him as they wentout of the door.

Carmen looked back, her brows together, and Billy Griffiths murmured something to her,something Quincy did not catch. The next moment the door had closed and Quincy looked

at Joe Aldonez in sudden suspicionthey had left him behind, and she guessed now that

that was deliberate, it was why Billy Griffith had so abruptly departed.

Joe turned to face her, one arm along the back of the couch, his eyes meeting hers. 'Okay,

Quincy, let me lay it on the linewe need your co-operation. Billy already gave you a bigbuild-up to the press as being a big fan of mine and we'd look pretty silly if you backed outnow. I realise it's an embarrassing prospectpublicity stunts are always damned silly. But

we're stuck with this one now. Will you go along with it as a favour?'

Quincy stared at him, hesitating. 'I don't know if I could face it, it sounds ghastly, I'd feel a

fool.'

'You'll get over that,' he said coolly. 'It will be a nine days' wonder, believe me, the press

have very short memories and so have the public. They'll forget it long before you do, but

we would be very grateful if you would go through with it.' He paused, frowning. 'Suppose

Bobby gets his radio, would that persuade you? That's what he entered for, after all. Iguarantee he'll get the biggest and best transistor on the market. How's that?'

'Bribery and corruption!' Quincy accused.

'Bribery,' he admitted wryly, smiling. 'I didn't say anything about corruptionnone was

offered, none was intended.'


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'Well, that's a relief,' she said, and he held out his hand.

'Is it a deal?'

She considered both his suggestion and his hand for a few seconds, then accepted both with

a faint sigh. 'It's a deal.'

He released her hand and stood up, his lean body uncoiling gracefully until he towered

above her, that black head almost seeming to touch the ceiling as she looked up at him.

'I'll go and put Billy out of his misery,' he said, moving towards the door.

'He left you here deliberately,' Quincy accused, and over his shoulder Joe grinned at her

with shameless amusement.

'Obvious, wasn't he? He has great faith in my ability to persuade the opposite sex to do

what he wants it to do.'

'How touching,' Quincy said coldly, and he laughed as he went out of the door. Quincy

stayed where she was, thinking that, despite Billy Griffith's steely charm and unreal smiles,

it was Joe Aldonez who was the dangerous one of the twoand Billy Griffith clearly knewit. Now Quincy knew it, too, and she would not forget it. Forewarned is forearmed, she told

herself, as she heard her parents outside saying goodbye and then the sound of a car moving

purringly away in the spring night.

CHAPTER TWO

Her parents were very late leaving for their dinner date, and left in an excited flurry,

reminding Quincy to ring the restaurant and warn them that Mr and Mrs Jones would be anhour later than they had planned. Quincy made the call, then went into the kitchen to start

getting supper for herself and Bobby. The idea of macaroni cheese no longer held such

great appeal, she decided, holding the fridge door open and staring indifferently at the

assembled contents. The easiest thing to make would be a cheese omelette, so she collecteda carton of eggs and some cheese.

While she was whisking the eggs, Brendan appeared in the doorway, hovering uncertainlyand watching her as though he had never seen her before.

'Hi,' she said, then remembered asking him to supper. 'Oh, have you come for yourmacaroni cheese, because if you have it's cheese omelette, do you still want some?'

He frowned but nodded. 'Thanks, that sounds fine.'
http://c/Program%20Files/ABC%20Amber%20LIT%20Converter/Charlotte%20Lamb%20-%20A%20Wild%20Affair_hbf_toc.htmlhttp://c/Program%20Files/ABC%20Amber%20LIT%20Converter/Charlotte%20Lamb%20-%20A%20Wild%20Affair_hbf_toc.htmlhttp://c/Program%20Files/ABC%20Amber%20LIT%20Converter/Charlotte%20Lamb%20-%20A%20Wild%20Affair_hbf_toc.html


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Quincy dropped some butter in the pan and watched it melt. Brendan leaned against the

wall, his eyes on her, but Quincy's thoughts were elsewhere, she was barely conscious thathe was in the room.

'I don't think it's a good idea,' Brendan said suddenly in a flat voice, and she glanced round,starting.

'Don't you? I'm sorry, I just went off the idea of macaroni cheesehow would you likesome soup instead?'

'Not the supper,' he said in an impatient voice, his brows knitted. 'This idea of going up toLondon!'

She felt her cheeks glowing, and turned her head away quickly. 'Oh, that!'

'You'll be out of your element,' Brendan said roughly. 'You're not that sort of girl.'

Indignant, Quincy asked crossly: 'What sort of girl is that? Good heavens, all that willhappen is that I'll be taken out to dinner by Joe Aldonezthey aren't planning anything

more lethal than caviar and champagne for two.' Having said that she felt herself drifting

back into the half-dream which had been engrossing her, her mind's eye picturing how itwould be, and Brendan gave an irritated little snort.

'It's started already, hasn't it?'

'What has?' the butter had begun to smoke and change colour and Quincy hurriedly poured

the whisked egg into the pan.

'That kiss,' said Brendan in tones of disgust.

Quincy bent her head, her face very flushed, and attended to the half-cooked omelette,folding it neatly so that the softly melting grated cheese could continue to cook inside the

perfect semi-circle of golden egg.

'You don't want to get involved with people like that,' Brendan informed her. 'Don't you

realise what sort of life he must lead?'

Quincy had realised exactly what sort of life a top singing star must lead. She had read

gossip items and stories in magazines about girls throwing themselves at their idols and she

had no intention of getting involved with Joe Aldonez, but for some peculiar reason shefound it very annoying to have Brendan giving her a gypsy's warning. Ignoring what he was

saying, she tipped the cooked omelette out of the pan on to a warmed dish, and slid it into

the warming compartment of the oven while she turned to cook another one.


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'Listen to me, Quincy,' said Brendan, shifting on his feet in a baulked, frustrated way.

'You're a very innocent girl, you know.'

'How dare you?' Quincy flared, turning on him, her eyes as green as an angry cat's. 'Who

are you insulting? Don't you talk about me as if I was ten years old!'

'I'm not insulting you,' Brendan protested in aghast tones, staring at her furious face.

'What's wrong with you? I only want to protect youyou don't realise what could happen

to you, what you could get yourself into!'

Quincy's teeth met and she went on cooking omelettes, her head averted.

'He's a sophisticated man,' Brendan told her. 'You're just another girl to him. He must have

had girls all over the world by now. You only have to look at him to see what sort of morals

he's got.' His voice held distaste and contempt. 'For him, you'll just be another one-night

stand, Quincy, but you could get hurt, and I don't want that.'

She switched off the heat as she finished her cooking and turned to give Brendan a quick,contrite smile. He meant well and she was fond of him, it was stupid of her to get annoyed

because he was trying to save her from getting hurt. How was he to guess that he had been

damaging her ego when he pointed out how innocent she wasBrendan couldn't guess he

was touching on a sore point. Quincy had not realised how cosy and protected, howinnocent and peaceful, her world was until tonight, when Joe Aldonez and his entourage

erupted into it to break up their halcyon serenity. Everything that had happened, everything

that had been said about her by Billy Griffith and Carmen Lister, had given her a newimage of herself. They saw her as a wide-eyed, unsophisticated country mouse who idolised

Joe Aldonez from a distance and no doubt Joe Aldonez himself saw her the same way.

Quincy felt that realisation inside herself like a poisoned thorn under her skin. She did notwant Joe Aldonez looking at her with amused, mocking eyes. She did not want him to tease

and torment her because he thought her lack of worldly sophistication something to smile

about.

'I can take care of myself,' she told Brendan, assuming a calm confidence she did not feel.

'Don't you worry about me! I'm only going because they promised to give Bobby a

transistor for his birthdayI'm in no danger from Joe Aldonez, you can be sure of that.'

Brendan did not look very convinced. He stared at her flushed face, then clumsily grabbed

her shoulders and kissed her hard. Quincy jerked in surprise, eyes wide open. Brendan let

go and stood back, brick red.

'Just don't let them change you,' he muttered. 'I like you just the way you are!' He walked

away, saying, 'I'll call Bobby, shall I?'

Quincy couldn't think of anything to sayit wasn't the first time Brendan had kissed her.They had been dancing together, had a few dates, but somehow although they were always

at ease together there had never been that special, tingling excitement between them which


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she instinctively knew came with a genuine attraction. She liked Brendan, but she was far

from falling in love with him. She knew him too well, he was always there, always thesame; a part of her life like the wallpaper or the sound of the dogs barking in the garden.

When love came, she had long ago decided, it ought to come like the sudden shock of a

collision with the unknown, sending electricity sparking through the veins. Only today she

had been telling herself that that was all romantic follylove mostly came more quietly.After all, you were choosing a man for life, and one instant of dazzling sexual attraction

was no basis for such a lifetime's decision. She might give herself wise advice on the

subject, but how did you get yourself to listen?

Brendan was very quiet over supper. Bobby more than made up for thathe chattered non-

stop as he ate, excited by what had happened.

'Wait till I get to school tomorrowboy, are my pals going to be green with envy!'

'I want my album back,' Quincy told him sternly. 'You aren't swapping it for anything,

Bobby Jones, don't think you are! That album is mine, remember, and don't you ever gohunting around my room again, keep out of it, you hear?'

He made an unabashed face at her. 'Who was in my room today, then? If you can, I can.'

She gave an indignant snort. 'I was trying to tidy your room for MumI don't know howyou can bear to live in it, it looks like the local garbage tip.'

'At least I don't hide anything,' Bobby jeered. 'I heard you lying to Joetelling him youdidn't like his singing when you've been sitting around for weeks all starry-eyed listening to

that album.'

Quincy was about to fly at him, descending to his level, when she remembered Brendanand felt him staring at her. She gave Bobby a sweet, forgiving sisterly smile of ineffable

condescension.

'Time little boys were in bed, isn't it?' she asked.

Bobby glared. 'Very funny,' he snapped, but got up, all the same. 'I was going, anyway,' hetold her.

It was not until she was in bed herself several hours later that it dawned on her that Bobby

had successfully evaded her attempt to get her record back. She would have to catch him inthe morning, she told herself, turning over on to her side.

What had Joe Aldonez written on it? Lying in the dark she remembered the way those thick

black lashes had nickered against his cheek as he wrote across the record sleeve. A wicked

little smile had curled his hard lips upwards. What had been in his mind?

She had to face the fact that she was unlikely ever to find out anything of the man but his


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sexy, smouldering public imagethat was what he was always careful to project, she

supposed. He had to be seen the way his fans wanted to see him. What was he like behindthat, though?

She found it hard to get to sleep that night, and when she woke up it was broad daylight,

the spring sunshine dancing on the ceiling of her bedroom and the garden alive with the callof birds, the shadow of their wings flitting past the window now and then as she lay

watching, struggling to surface from the depths of sleep.

Her head felt heavy, she had a vague memory of strange dreams, but the strangest of them

was lingering with her as she glanced at the clock. Had it been a dream? Or had Joe

Aldonez really burst into her life last night?

'Aren't you awake yet?' Her mother came into the room with a cup of tea, shaking her head.

'You have to be ready at nine, remember.'

'Ready?' repeated Quincy dazedly, sitting up.

'They're coming to pick you up,' Mrs Jones reminded her, drawing the curtains. 'Shall Ipack for you while you get ready?'

'Oh,' Quincy murmured, speechless, the cup trembling in her hands and almost spilling hottea over the bed. It was no dreamit had all happened. 'I can't go,' she burst out. 'Mum, I

can't!'

Mrs Jones laughed. 'Of course you can, you'll have fun in London. Mr Griffith promised

your father you would be perfectly safe with them, the last thing they would want was any

trouble, this is a very important publicity stunt.'

'What about Dad?' Quincy asked. 'Who'll do my job while I'm away? You know how the

paperwork piles up, and somebody has to answer the phone when Dad and Brendan are outon their rounds.'

'I'll do that,' her mother assured her. 'Who do you think did it before you took over? I can

do it with one hand tied behind my back.'

Quincy looked at her mother helplessly, seeing the excitement brightening her eyes. Mrs

Jones was loving the situationnothing like this had ever happened in their lives before.

'Your father just went down to get all the newspapers,' Mrs Jones told her. 'I wonder if Lilli

is back in London yet? I'll give her a ring later.'

'Mum,' Quincy started to say, feeling shivery and faintly sick, and then the phone began to

ring downstairs and her mother gave a little groan.

'I'd better answer that as your father's out.' She bustled out of the room and went


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downstairs. Quincy slowly drank her tea. She wasn't hungry this morning; her mind was in

too confused a state.

She put down the cup and reluctantly got out of bed just as her mother reappeared. 'That

was Lilli,' Mrs Jones told her eagerly, all smiles. 'She just read the morning paper and

couldn't believe her eyes. She says you must stay with her while you're in London, it wouldbe silly for you to stay with that editor when your own sister can look after you.'

Quincy felt a surge of relief. 'Oh, that would be a good idea!' If she was staying with Lillishe would have a safe refuge where the insanity of Joe Aldonez' world couldn't touch her.

'I'd much prefer that,' she said.

'I thought you would,' her mother nodded. 'Go and have your bath, while I pack a case for

you. They'll be here in half an hour.'

Quincy hesitated over what to wear. Her wardrobe was hardly in the high fashion class, she

relied heavily on jeans and sweaters. In bra and panties she stood in front of the mirror,gloomily considering her clothes, and finally took down a camelhair skirt which Lilli had

given her last Christmas. It had been expensive, Quincy suspected, Lilli's clothes usuallywere, but her career demanded she constantly bought new ones and she sometimes passed

on to Quincy some garment she was tired of or had decided was not suitable for the job.

Slipping into a jade-green sweater, also a gift from Lilli, Quincy studied herself ruefully.

She looked just what she wasa country mouse about to venture up to town.

She brushed her hair until it gleamed, golden lights among the rich chestnut strands, and

took care over her make-up, outlining her lips with a warm pink and brushing pale green

eye-shadow across her lids.

The finished result was hardly going to set the world on fireand would certainly not set

Joe Aldonez on fire, Quincy thought, then bit her lip, angry with herself. Who wants to set

him on fire? she asked her reflection crossly. Are you crazy? Will you stop thinking likethat?

Her green eyes flashed back at her like exploding fireworks as she turned hurriedly away.Her mind was in a state of total insanity, she admitted. It wasn't so surprising, the last

twenty-four hours had been enough to turn any sane girl into a gibbering idiot, but Quincy

was not prepared to forgive herself for letting her head whirl over a man who was only

using her to get himself some big publicity.

From downstairs her mother's voice called frantically: 'He's here! Quincy, he's here!'

He? Quincy thought, jumping about six feet into the air, her nerves jangling. Who does she

mean? Not him, not Joe Aldonez, surely? He wouldn't have come himself. She hadimagined he would send a chauffeur or possibly that dreadful Billy Griffith.


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She ran to the window but was too late to see who had arrived. A gleaming white Ferrari

sports car was parked outside the house, but whoever had been driving it had been admitted

downstairs, she heard her mother talking in excited tones.

'Quincy!' her mother called up the stairs. 'Aren't you ready yet, darling?'

'Coming!' Quincy called back, her voice low and husky. She took a final, nervous look at

herself in the mirror. Who was that strange girl staring back at her with huge, glazed, bright

green eyes, her skin a hectic colour and her mouth not quite steady?

She walked down the stairs, carrying the picture with her, unreality settling around her like

a brittle shell, sealing her off from the true impact of what was happening to her.

Joe Aldonez stood in the hall with her mother. His eyes lifted to drift over Quincy as she

came down towards them, and if it had not been for the protective shell she had managed to

seal around herself she might have turned tail and bolted from him in trepidation, but,

wearing a stiff set smile, she went on down the stairs, her head lifted, moving as gracefullyas she could on legs that trembled.

'Here she is,' Mrs Jones said triumphantly, as though Quincy was making some grand

entrance.

'So I see,' Joe Aldonez drawled as Quincy looked at him, her eyes dazzled by the sun

shining into them, seeing him through a vivid halo of dancing light. 'I've put your case in

the car,' he added. 'Are you ready?'

'Mr Aldonez is going to drive you there himself,' her mother pointed out.

'Joe,' he urged, turning his quick, warm smile towards Mrs Jones. 'Everyone just calls me

Joe, except my mother.'

'What does she call you?' Quincy asked with a dry-ness she hadn't intended, surprised for

some peculiar reason at the idea that he had parents like everyone else. There was

something so different about him, a special magic centred on his name, which seemed to sethim apart from the rest of the human race. Every time she saw him she felt a jab of

disbelief.

He had turned his glance back to her, those eyes of his glittering jet beneath his winged

brows. 'Jose,' he said. 'That's what I was baptised.'

'That's Spanish,' Mrs Jones said curiously.

He nodded. 'My mother is Spanish and my father is of Spanish descent although he was

born in California.'


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He grinned, a rakish amusement in his face. 'So was his father,' he added. 'My family came

to the States a hundred years ago. I'm a fourth generation American.'

'Have you ever been to Spain?' asked Mrs Jones, and he shook his head.

'But I mean to try to see some of it while I'm over here in Europe,' he told her. 'I've

promised my mother I'll visit her family if I get time. She was over there last year, but I was

too busy to go with her.'

'Does she live in California?' Quincy asked.

He nodded. 'My family have some orange groves therethe land has been in the family forover fifty years. My grandfather bought it during the Depression.' His eyes danced. 'He won

some money in a poker game and he'd have lost it the same way, if my grandmother hadn't

taken it out of his pocket when he was asleep and hidden it. She talked him into buying the

land before she told him where the money wasa very determined woman, my

grandmother.'

Quincy was fascinated and could have gone on asking questions, hoping by his answers to

make herself believe he was real and not some dark fantasy conjured up from her own

imagination, but he looked at his watch and said: 'Time to get moving, I'm afraid.' Holding

out his hand, he smiled at Mrs Jones. 'Nice to know you, Mrs JonesI'll look forward toseeing you again real soon.'

Fluttered and flushed, Mrs Jones followed them to the door and stood there, waving, as heput Quincy into the passenger seat of the sleek sports car. Quincy looked back at her mother

with a drowning sense of alarmed dismay. Mrs Jones waved vigorously as the engine fired

and the car drew smoothly away from the house, putting on speed at once, the elegant linesof the vehicle built for the race track as much as for the busy roads, taking them shootingpast every other car without effort.

Joe glanced sideways at her, his brows meeting. 'Do up your seat-belt.'

Something in the cool arrogance of the tone made her sit up, bristling. She obeyed, but

gave him a look which brought another of those glinting little smiles her way.

'Feeling belligerent this morning, are we?' he asked in a soft, taunting voice. 'I had the

feeling you were when you came downstairs. Had some second thoughts about coming to

London?'

'I don't know why I ever agreed,' she admitted, hurling the words at him like littlesharpened flints.

'Too late to change your mind now,' he said, putting on even more speed as he hit themotorway going to London, the beautiful streamlined car flashing along the fast lane while

every other driver gazed in envious reverence at it as it passed them.


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'You know I'm going to stay with my sister, not with Miss Lister?' asked Quincy, her

chestnut curls fluttering around her face in the slipstream of cold air blowing around her.

'Your mother mentioned it,' he agreed. 'She said your sister was a dancerwhat sort of

dancer is she?'

'She's part of a dance group who appear on television and who do cabaret now and then

they're called The Panthers.' The family were very proud of Lilli, she was the nearestapproach to a star they had known before Joe Aldonez erupted into their lives.

'How many dancers in the group?' Joe asked.

'Fifteen,' said Quincy, realising he had never heard of her sister's act. Lilli wasn't in the

superstar bracket, of course, but maybe one day she would beshe was very beautiful and

talented. Quincy wondered suddenly, with a funny little twist of dismay inside her, what Joe

Aldonez would think of Lilli. Every other man Quincy had ever metapart from Brendanhad fallen for Lilli on sight, bewitched by her fiery hair and lovely face. Quincy secretly

viewed the man beside her through her lowered lashes. Would he fall for Lilli, too? What ifhe does? she asked herself impatiently what difference would it make to you, you idiot?

He's flashed into your life like a comet and he'll flash out again in a few days.

They slowed as they met an incoming stream of traffic and someone in another car stared,

open-mouthed, at Joe Aldonez. Quincy saw his involuntary grimace as he realised he had

been recognised. The white Ferrari roared away, leaving the much slower car behind, andJoe leaned forward to open the glove compartment in front of him. Quincy watched him

take out some dark glasses and slip them on, their mirror lenses completely hiding those

eyes of his. His lean, tanned face took on a new air, making it far less likely anyone wouldrecognise him now.

'Where did you stay last night?' she asked him, and he turned, the lenses flashing blankly in

her direction.

'We all went off to a hotel in Bath,' he said. 'Carmen and Billy drove back to London a

couple of hours ago.'

'Why did you come to pick me up?' she asked, and saw his brows lift at the question,

adding hurriedly: 'I thought you'd send someone.'

'I was driving back, anyway,' he drawled. With those dark glasses on she had no idea

whether he was smiling or not, his mouth had a curve even in repose which was misleading.

'Aren't you worried that someone will recognise you?' she asked and he grinned.

'In this case they would need to have wings to catch up with me!'


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my father's orange trees to singnow I try to escape from singing to give Dad a hand.'

Quincy listened, frowning. He was altering her whole idea of the sort of life he led. Was hebeing honest?

'How often do you go home to see your family?' she asked, and he shrugged.

'Not as often as I'd likeit's the only place in the world where I can be myself without

being watched.

The older I get, the more I value my home. I'm very lucky. My parents haven't changed an

inch. My mother will still give me a tongue-lashing if she thinks I need it.' His sidewayssmile was mocking. 'You should meet her, I've a feeling you two would get on like a house

on fire.' He looked back at the busy road. 'She's a very real woman, too.'

Quincy was taken aback by that remark, flattered by it despite her inner resolve to remain

untouched by anything he said.

They made London inside three hours and would have got there earlier if the traffic had not

thickened as they approached the capital, and slowed the white Ferrari down.

'Lilli lives in Chelsea,' Quincy said as they fought their way into the inner city.

'Would you mind if we call in at my hotel first?' he asked, glancing at her. 'Carmen will be

waiting there for us and I'd better let her know you won't be sharing her flat. A change ofarrangements could annoy her, I warn you.'

'I'm sorry, but I'd rather stay with my sister,' Quincy said, and he shrugged, his face noteasy to read.

She was not looking forward to confronting Carmen Listerthe other girl had made a veryunfavourable impression when they met. Quincy felt herself tightening up inside as she

followed Joe into the hushed environment of one of London's most exclusive hotels. He

looked at her, taking off his dark glasses, and began to smile as he absorbed the defiantflush on her face.

'Getting ready to do battle?' he mocked. 'Think you can take Carmen on, do you? She's a

tough lady.'

He collected his key at the desk and walked along the carpeted gallery to the lift. Quincy

stood beside him as it rose smoothly, her eyes avoiding the betraying reflection of herself inthe mirror-lined walls. She did not need to see herself to know that her green eyes were

hectic, her face taut. What could Carmen Lister do to her, anyway? she asked herself.

Quincy did not enjoy arguments, but she had no intention of backing down on this one. Shewould feel much happier if she was staying with Lilli, and Carmen Lister was not talking

her out of it.


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Joe had a large suite overlooking one of London's royal parks, and, as they let themselves

into it he called out: 'Billy? We're here!'

There was no answer, the rooms lay silent and, apparently, empty, in the spring sunshine.

Joe walked ahead into a spacious, beautifully furnished sitting-room and stood there,twirling the doorkey on one finger as he looked around.

Arrangements of spring flowers stood around the room; blue iris in velvety sprays,daffodils and delicate white narcissus, their scent filling the air. A white envelope was

propped against one vase. Joe walked over and picked it up, pulled out a sheet of paper and

read it with a slight frown. Quincy stood nervously near the door, feeling shy and out ofplace in the luxurious surroundings.

Looking up, Joe said wryly: 'They're both otherwise occupied, it seems. Do you want toring your sister and see if she's home?'

Quincy nodded, relieved not to have to face Carmen Lister after all. She picked up the

phone and dialled Lilli's number. There was no reply and slowly she put the phone down.Joe was watching her.

'No answer?'

She shook her head, wondering what to do now. It had not occurred to her that Lilli might

not be home.

'Why don't we have lunch up here?' Joe asked. 'I don't know about you, but I'm ready to eat

a rare steak.' He picked up the phone and rang room service without waiting for her toanswer. 'Steak okay for you, too?' he enquired only after he had dialled the number.

'Yes, thank you,' she said, very politely. There was something about the sunny silence of

the large suite which made her uncomfortably aware of being alone with him.

'Medium?' he asked, and she nodded.

'French fried or just salad?' he asked, and she told him salad would be fine.

He ordered for them both, adding a request for a bottle of wine. As he put down the phonehe made a little face at her.

'Judging by my previous experience of this hotel that will take them a good half an hour,'he said drily. 'Take off your coat, it's warm in here.'

She unbuttoned her camelhair coat with fingers which were not very steady and Joe tookoff his leather jacket and flung it over a chair. He moved so lightly that she wasn't aware of


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it until she felt him right behind her, sliding her coat off her shoulders, his cool fingers

brushing lightly against her neck. A shiver ran through her and she involuntarily flinched.

'Don't get uptight,' he said in a brisk voice. 'I'm not about to make a heavy pass.'

'I didn't think you were!' Quincy denied, her face flushing.

'You're lying in your teeth,' he accused, tossing her coat down on top of his jacket, the little

movement tightening the fit of that silk shirt, making her very conscious of the powerfullean body under it. He put a finger on the side of her throat where a tiny pulse was beating

violently. 'What's that?' he asked, angry mockery in his black eyes. 'Do you think I don't

know your heart's going like a steam-hammer?'

'Not for you!' Quincy mumbled incoherently, pulling away. 'You don't make my heart miss

a beat, Mr Aldonez. If I'm flushed, it's the central heating in here, it's far too warm.'

'Oh, is that what it is?' he asked in a soft, intimate voice which made her swallow withalarm, taking another step nearer, making Quincy instinctively back even further. Her legs

came up against the elegant brocade couch behind her and, off balance, she abruptly satdown on it.

That was a mistake. Joe was sitting beside her a second later, his thigh against her, leaningtowards her, his body twisted so that he could look into her startled, alarmed eyes.

'Can you see in the dark?' he asked.

The question baffled her. 'What?' she said, totally at sea. What was he talking about?

'You have eyes like a cat,' he explained. 'As green as grass and full of spitting defianceI

wouldn't like to feel those little claws, I bet they're as sharp as razors.' His fingers curled

round one of her hands and lifted it, spread across his palm, the pearly nails gleamed. 'They

don't look sharp,' he added, his mouth curving in a smile. 'But I suspect they're as deceptiveas the rest of you.'

Quincy looked at him uneasilyhe was flirting with her quite deliberately, she was not so

innocent that she did not understand that. At such close quarters he was almost hypnotic, a

man of sexual magnetism who knew precisely how he could affect a woman when he

looked into her eyes, the self-assured glitter of his dark gaze riveting her attention in spite

of her common sense. The fact that he had 'dangerous' written all over him merelyintensified the threat he exuded. Quincy could not help wondering what it would feel like to

be in his arms again, to have that firm, male mouth compelling her lips to submit. When hekissed her the first time she had been too dazed to enjoy the experienceit had happened

too fast, too inexplicably. In spite of her determination to be calm and controlled whenever

he was around, she had been a prey to helpless fantasies about that kiss, wishing she couldrun the moment again, like some slow-motion replay.


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'Lost your tongue?' he enquired drily when she was silent.

'I wasn't saying anything because I haven't got anything to say,' Quincy threw, back

crossly, glaring at him.

'There's a novelty,' he mocked. 'A woman who doesn't talk if she hasn't anything to sayyou must be unique. I'm surprised you're still wandering around fancy-freeare all the men

in your life blind?'

'No,' Quincy said demurely, looking down.

She felt him watching her. 'I didn't think to ask,' he said, in an altered voice. 'Is theresomeone in your life?'

'What business of yours is that?' she asked, and his fingers closed round her chin, lifting ituntil he could see her green eyes.

'Is there?' he insisted, then a sudden frown pulled his brows together. 'Now I remember it,

there was someone with you last night, wasn't there? When you opened the door I got avague impression of a guy lurking in the background. I'd forgotten him. Who was it?'

'Brendan,' Quincy said. 'My father's partner.'

'Married?' he asked quickly, and she shook her head. 'How old is he?' Joe demanded.

'Thirty.'

His mouth twisted and he released her. 'And does he harbour ideas of marrying into thepractice?' he asked in a light, mocking voice. 'Does he fancy you, Quincy?'

'What if he does?' she asked, something inside her prickling angrily. Had he imagined thatshe had no boy-friends? Quincy's pride rebelled against the idea that Joe had decided she

was unlikely to have other men in her life.

He leaned back, his hands clasped behind his head, the long supple body at rest.

'I suppose it would be very suitable,' he drawled in a dry voice. 'Your parents would

approvethey wouldn't be losing a daughter, just acquiring another vet.'

'I don't think that's funny,' Quincy flared. Her temper shot away from her and she added

furiously: 'What's the matter, Mr Aldonez? Disappointed to discover I'm not going to bequite the push-over you expected? If you had the idea that I was going to fall into your arms

without a qualm, you'd better think again. I've agreed to go through with this ridiculous

cheap publicity stunt, but only under pressure. As far as I'm concerned, the sooner this is allover, the better I'll like it. I shan't enjoy pretending to think you're the best thing since sliced


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bread, I hate telling lies, even when there seems to be no alternative. You should have hired

an actress to play the part of an adoring fan, she might have done a much better job. I won'tfind it quite so easy to pretend.'

Joe had sat listening to her, his face changing, until by the time she had run out of steam he

was staring at her, no longer a charming, mocking man with teasing dark eyes, but a mancarved out of flint; features hard and grim, eyes glittering.

CHAPTER THREE

Before he could react, however, someone tapped at the door of the suite and a moment laterthe floor waiter wheeled a laden table into the sitting-room, bowing to them as he

courteously said: 'Good day, m'sieur, mademoiselle.'

Joe rose with a graceful twist of his lean figure as the waiter drew two chairs up to the

table. Quincy got up, too, and sat down with the waiter bowing behind her chair. He flicked

out one of the starched damask napkins and laid it over her lap.

'Bon appetit,' he murmured, and she gave him a weak smile.

When he had gone Joe picked up a glass of the red wine he had ordered and drank some,

his eyes lowered. The room seemed to Quincy to be heavy with brooding hostility. She

concentrated on her steak, although she had lost all appetite. Joe ate, too, in silence. Quincywas bitterly regretting her stupid outburst, but she could not bring herself to apologise. How

could she explain to him that her anger had been born out of a miserable sense of her own

very ordinary self, her lack of beauty and glamour, compared to the sort of girls he mustmeet every day? Her pride had wanted to deny that she found him violently attractiveshe

would rather have him think he left her cold than have him realise she could hardly take her

eyes off him when he was in the same room.

He might have been flirting lightly with her, but it had meant nothing, Quincy realised that.

Either he had been amusing himself with herwhich stung her prideor he had been

going through the motions, acting to keep her happy, making her feel terrific. He was apublic performer, after all, he was used to make-believe. It wouldn't be hard for him to use

every ounce of that undoubted sex appeal to make her head spin. When he sang he turned it

full on like some high-voltage spotlight, his male sensuality throbbing in every husky note.It didn't mean a thing to him, but Quincy was determined not to let herself fall for it. She

would only get hurt. She was a small town girl and she took life seriouslyshe did not

need to have a diagram drawn for her to understand that if she took Joe Aldonez seriously

she would be in danger of losing her heart.

They had just finished their meal when Carmen Lister and Billy Griffith arrived. Carmen
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threw a comprehensive glance over the table, lifted her perfectly arched brows in

amusement.

'Has Joe been wining and dining you?' she asked Quincy with a smile that stripped

Quincy's pride bare, as she read the cynicism, the mockery, in the other woman's face.

Perhaps Carmen Lister had had the dazzling spotlight of Joe's charm turned on her sometime? Carmen was more able to protect herself than Quincy, though. Her head was unlikely

to be turned by one of his intimate smiles. Carmen Lister's head was screwed on very

firmly, Quincy suspected.

Billy Griffith shook hands vigorously. 'Great to see you,' he told her. 'Wonderfuler'

'Quincy,' Joe supplied as the man paused, obviously at a loss to remember her name.

'Sure,' said Billy. 'Quincycute name, I like it.' He gave her a nod and turned to Joe.'Rehearsal three o'clock, Joe, and we get the plane to Liverpool tomorrow at eight-thirty.

We're going straight to rehearse at the hall, everything's set up.'

Joe nodded. 'Fine. By the way, Quincy would prefer to stay with her sister while she's inLondon. Could someone drive her there?'

Carmen frowned. 'Where does your sister live?' she asked Quincy, who told her flatly,'Chelsea.'

Carmen looked at Billy Griffith. 'I don't think that's a good idea, we ought to have herwhere we can see her,' she said.

'If that's what she wants, she must do it,' Joe interrupted in a curt voice.

'But, Joe'

'No argument,' he said. 'It will put her at her ease, and it will look better for her to be

staying with one of her family rather than with you.'

'That's true,' Billy agreed, and Carmen shrugged.

'Okay,' she said with an irritated frown. 'Just as you say, Joe. Come on, Quincy, I'll drive

you thereI ought to meet your sister.'

Billy had wandered away towards the window, but he turned now. 'Is your sister married?'

he asked. 'Got any kids?'

'No,' said Quincy, and he turned away, losing interest.

'Pity, good human interest there.'


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Quincy looked at him with acute dislike. He wasn't a man, he was a money-making

machine who cared for nothing but profit and made every single thing in life seem pointlessunless it could be useful. She did not envy Joe his life, surrounded by men like that, men for

whom everything had to have a commercial motive.

'You'd better ring to check your sister's home,' Joe told her in a quiet voice, and she turned

to pick up the phone. This time the ringing was answered and Lilli's voice said: 'Hallo?'

'Lilli, this is Quincy.' Conscious of the others listening to her, Quincy sounded unlike

herself, her voice low and breathless.

'Quincy! Where are you? When will you be in London? I can't wait to see youI'm just so

excited, I can't believe this has happened to you, of all people!'

Quincy laughed lightly, glad no one else could hear what Lilli was saying and indignant at

the last frank comment. What did Lilli mean? Her of all people? Why shouldn't it havehappened to her? The fact that her own reaction had been as incredulous was beside the

point, she felt.

'I'm in London,' she said. 'Can I come over now? I've been trying to get in touch with you,

but you weren't answering your phone.'

'I was shopping,' Lilli explained. 'Of course you can come nowI'm dying to see you, are

you at the station?'

Quincy decided not to tell her she was in Joe Aldonez's suite at a swish London hotel. 'I'll

be there in a quarter of an hour,' she said. 'See you soon.'

Joe moved to pick up her coat. Quincy stiffened as he held it, sliding it up her arms.

Having him anywhere near her did something drastic to her heartbeat, and that made her

angry with herself. What sort of idiot was she?

'I'll be seeing you when I get back from my gigs,' he said behind her in a deep, cool voice,the sound of it iced with a lingering memory of what she had said to him before their lunch

arrived.

She nodded and followed Carmen out of the suite. By the time she saw Joe Aldonez again,

she told herself sternly, she was going to have herself firmly under control again, her stupidheart obediently keeping its usual regular rhythm and her blood flowing around her body at

a sensible speed. He wasn't going to see her blushing and jumping with nerves every timehe touched her in future.

'What's the address?' Carmen asked her as the doorman held open the door of the small redcar.


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Quincy told her and slid into the passenger seat. A moment later they were weaving their

way through heavy London traffic, turning south towards the Embankment along the

Thames. The spring day was fading softly, the air cool and bright, but the sky a delicatelavender blue over the steel-grey river. Knots of barges passed slowly along the water

towards the docks and a yellow-beaked gull screamed as it climbed above the choppy

water.

'Your sister works in London, I suppose?' Carmen asked, giving her a brief cold look.

Quincy distinctly got the feeling the other girl did not like her much, but Carmen Lister wasthe sort of girl who made you feel her own sex was not on her wavelength, she was strictly

a man's woman; businesslike, tough and independent.

No doubt she used her sexual attraction, of which she probably had a plentiful supply, if

she thought it useful, but Quincy could not imagine her losing her head or missing a night's

sleep over a man. She talked to Billy Griffith as an equal, which, Quincy felt, was a

betraying attitude, and although she smiled at Joe Aldonez with a definite glint in her eyes,

Quincy wouldn't like to bet on it that Carmen was any more excited by him than she was byanyone else. Carmen had the hard eyes of a woman with her gaze set on her own future.

'She's a dancer with The Panthers,' Quincy said, and felt Carmen shoot another stare at her.

'Oh, is she?' There was thoughtful assessment behind that remark. 'What do you do,Quincy? I gathered you just helped at home.'

'I'm the receptionist in my father's surgery,' Quincy told her. 'I help my mother in thehouse, too, when she needs it.'

'A home girl,' Carmen commented, and she wasn't being complimentary, she made it soundlike a purring insult. 'Haven't you ever wanted to do something more exciting?'

'No,' Quincy said defiantly. 'I like helping my fatherI like animals and I hate to see themin pain, I get satisfaction out of knowing I'm helping them. I can't think of any other job I'd

rather doexcept be a vet myself, and I wasn't good enough to take the exams. There's too

much to learn and it takes years.'

Carmen smiled, kind contempt in her face. 'Well, so long as you're happy,' she dismissed as

she pulled up in front of Lilli's flat. Lilli had two small rooms on the ground floor of a

narrow Edwardian terraced house several streets away from the river. It was a very good

flat, the rent exorbitant, but it was central in the overcrowded city, and Lilli had beendelighted to find it.

Carmen watched as Quincy rang the door bell. As the door jerked open Lilli flew through

it, laughing. 'Quincy, I don't believe it, I really don't' She stopped, seeing that her sister

wasn't alone, and Quincy said politely: 'This is Carmen Lister, the editor ofVibes , themagazine who ran the competition Carmen, this is my sister, Lilli.'


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'Hi,' said Carmen, running narrowed and very sharp eyes over Lilli, her face reflecting the

surprise of seeing someone so beautiful.

Lilli smiled back. 'Hellocome in, both of you.'

She was so supple you almost felt she was entirely boneless, h

Charlotte Lamb - A Wild Affair

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